The next morning, Rose and I made our way to The Burrow, the home of the Weasley family. I had heard plenty about them, both from Rose and the stories, but actually stepping into their world was something different altogether.
As we approached the house, Ginny was the first to spot us. She was sitting outside on a rickety old chair, looking somewhat lost in thought until her eyes caught Rose's figure. Immediately, her face brightened up, and she jumped up from her seat, rushing toward us.
"Rose!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "It's been ages!"
'Not really ages' I thought.
Rose smiled and hugged her. "I know, Ginny. It's good to see you."
Ginny glanced at me curiously, her head tilting slightly. "And… who's this?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but Rose beat me to it. "This is Shiro. He's a friend of mine and is helping me look into Sirius's case."
Ginny blinked, still eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "A friend from where? You don't look like you're from around here."
Rose smirked slightly, clearly expecting this question. "He's a private detective. From Japan."
Ginny's expression softened a little, and she nodded slowly. "A detective? Wow, didn't expect that. Well, come on in, Everyone's inside."
As we entered The Burrow, I was hit with the smell of freshly baked bread and the warmth of the Weasley household. It was cozy, just as I had imagined—a little cluttered, sure, but it felt lived in, like a place filled with love and laughter.
Mrs. Weasley was busy at the stove, stirring something in a large pot, but she turned around as soon as she heard us enter.
"Oh, Rose, dear!" she cried, wiping her hands on her apron before rushing over to give Rose a hug. "It's been so long! How have you been?"
"I've been well, Mrs. Weasley," Rose replied, returning the hug. "Busy, but well."
"And who's this?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking me up and down.
Before I could introduce myself, Rose stepped in. "This is Shiro. He's a detective helping me with… you know… Sirius's case."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened slightly, and she placed a hand on her chest. "A detective? Goodness, I didn't realize you were going that far, Rose. But I suppose it's necessary. Well, it's nice to meet you, Shiro."
I nodded politely. "Likewise, Mrs. Weasley."
The rest of the Weasley family soon joined us in the kitchen—Fred, George, Ron, and Mr. Weasley. Fred and George, unsurprisingly, were the first to start asking questions.
"So, you're a detective?" Fred asked, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. "I figured you'd look more… I don't know… detective-y."
George nodded in agreement. "Yeah, maybe with a hat. And a trench coat."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint. I left my hat and coat at home."
They both laughed. "Fair enough," George said. "At least you're helping Sirius. That makes you alright with us."
With introductions out of the way, I explained to the Weasleys why we were there. Our goal was to find any clues that could prove Peter Pettigrew was still alive. Fred and George, who seemed particularly eager to help, quickly jumped into the conversation.
"We've already searched the house after we found out Scabbers was Pettigrew," Fred said, his usual lighthearted tone dropping for a moment. "We didn't find anything."
"Nothing," George added. "Not a single hair. The rat was good at covering his tracks."
I frowned slightly, thinking. "Even so, Pettigrew spent years hiding here. There's got to be something he left behind. We just need to be thorough."
Mr. Weasley nodded thoughtfully. "We can certainly try. Even the most careful wizard leaves traces behind."
Mrs. Weasley, who had been listening quietly, sighed. "I just hope you're right. If there's anything we can do to help, please let us know."
And so, the search began. Everyone spread out through the house, scouring every room for even the smallest trace of Pettigrew. Fred and George, in particular, were meticulous in their search, determined to find something that could prove useful. I had to give them credit—they took the task seriously.
An hour passed, and despite our efforts, we had found nothing. Even if there was something it looked like it was already cleaned. The mood in the room grew tense as frustration began to set in. We gathered back in the kitchen, our shoulders sagging with the weight of disappointment.
"Well, that was a waste of time," Ron muttered, slumping into a chair. "I told you there was nothing here."
Fred and George didn't look any happier. "We tore this place apart after we found out about Scabbers," George said. "If Pettigrew left something behind, we'd have found it by now."
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, thinking. The frustration in the room was palpable, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. Pettigrew had lived here for years—there had to be something, something we were overlooking.
When suddenly, an idea sparked.
The idea that had struck me yesterday had seemed almost too simple: Gringotts. It was a well-known fact that the Goblins of Gringotts were fiercely protective of their clients' vaults and financial privacy. However, if a wizard or witch died, their vaults would either be passed down to their heirs or absorbed back into Gringotts' ownership if no heirs existed. That meant if Peter Pettigrew's vault still existed and hadn't been claimed, then he had to be alive. The simplest proof could come from the bank itself—a statement from Gringotts declaring that Pettigrew's vault was still active.
Of course, getting a statement from the Goblins was another matter entirely. They weren't exactly known for their generosity or willingness to cooperate. But I had my own methods.
Rose and I made our way toward Gringotts after gathering statements from the Weasley family. I'd asked them to provide testimonies about Pettigrew's time hiding with them as Scabbers, just in case we needed more evidence. With everything in hand, I decided it was time to pay a visit to the bank. I wasn't going to rely on polite conversation to get what I needed.
As we approached the towering white building in Diagon Alley, I started leaking a bit of spiritual pressure—just enough to grab attention, but not enough to cause harm. Goblins were known to be sensitive to magical energy, and I knew it wouldn't take long for them to notice us. Sure enough, as soon as we walked through the massive front doors, every goblin in the lobby stopped what they were doing and turned to look at us.
"Guess they sensed the spiritual pressure," I muttered under my breath, amused by how effective it was.
Rose, walking beside me, glanced around with raised eyebrows. "You sure this is the right way to go about it? Goblins aren't exactly fond of wizards, let alone anyone who tries to pressure them."
I grinned slightly. "They'll cooperate. Trust me."
We made our way to the head teller's desk. The goblin behind the counter was already eyeing me warily. His nameplate read "Griphook," and while I had read about him in the books, I knew there wasn't much chance of things going smoothly without a little nudge. Time for Kyōka Suigetsu to work its magic.
I stepped forward and introduced myself. "Good morning. My name is Shiro Emiya, and I'm here to inquire about the status of a vault belonging to Peter Pettigrew. We need a statement from Gringotts confirming that his vault has not been claimed by the bank."
Griphook's eyes narrowed. "Gringotts doesn't typically provide such information to outsiders, Mr. Emiya."
I gave a faint smile. "I understand that. But we're willing to pay for the service, of course. Surely Gringotts wouldn't refuse a paying customer?"
Griphook stared at me, clearly considering his options. But before he could respond, I let a bit more spiritual pressure leak out—just enough to unsettle him. His hand twitched slightly, and I knew I had his attention. Without saying anything, I activated Kyōka Suigetsu's illusion. To him, it would seem as though the atmosphere around us had become oppressive, and the weight of my request would feel much more imposing than it truly was.
"I think you'll find it's in Gringotts' best interest to provide the statement," I said calmly, keeping my gaze steady. "After all, we wouldn't want to cause any… unnecessary complications."
For a moment, Griphook didn't speak. Then, with a small nod, he cleared his throat. "Very well. We will provide the statement—for a fee, of course."
I inclined my head, keeping my smile polite. "Naturally. Name your price."
After a brief negotiation—more for show than anything else—Griphook agreed to provide the document, and within minutes, we had the official statement in hand. The vault belonging to Peter Pettigrew had not been claimed by Gringotts, proving that he was still alive. This was exactly the evidence we needed to bolster Sirius's case.
As we left the bank, Rose let out a breath she'd been holding. "I can't believe that worked. You didn't even have to threaten them or anything."
I chuckled softly. "A little pressure goes a long way, especially with Goblins. They're smart enough to know when they're outmatched."
Rose shook her head in disbelief. "Still, that was impressive. And you did it so calmly. I expected more fireworks."
I shrugged. "Subtlety is often more effective. Besides, causing a scene in Gringotts wouldn't have helped anyone."
We stepped out into Diagon Alley, the busy street bustling with witches and wizards going about their business. Rose glanced around and then looked back at me with a thoughtful expression.
"Since we're done here… how about I show you around London a bit? You've been so focused on the case that I doubt you've had time to really see the city."
I raised an eyebrow. "You want to play tour guide?"
She grinned. "Why not? Consider it a thank-you for helping Sirius."
I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, fair enough. Let's go for a drive then."
Rose blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "A drive? We're in Diagon Alley, how are you going to—"
Before she could finish her sentence, I pulled my Pagani Huayra Roadster out of storage. The sleek car shimmered into existence in front of us, its metallic curves gleaming in the sunlight.
Rose's mouth fell open in shock. "Where the hell did that come from?"
I grinned, tossing her the keys. "Magic."
She caught the keys but still looked dumbfounded. "You're telling me this car just… appeared out of nowhere? And we're driving it in Muggle London?"
"Exactly. Now come on, you said you wanted to show me around."
Rose hesitated for a second, then shook her head and climbed into the passenger seat. "You're insane, you know that?"
I slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a low, powerful purr. "I've been told that before."
As we drove through the streets of London, the car drew a lot of attention. People stared at us as we passed, no doubt wondering what kind of luxury vehicle they were seeing. After all, the first Pagani wouldn't launch until 1999, and even then, it would be a rare sight. To most onlookers, it probably looked like some kind of futuristic concept car.
Rose sat back, still shaking her head. "This is insane. You do realize that, right? No one's going to believe we're just casually driving this around."
I chuckled. "Let them think whatever they want."
After an hour of driving through the city, we eventually made our way back to Grimmauld Place. The moment we stepped inside, Rose dashed toward the living room to find Sirius. I could hear her voice, excited and breathless as she called out.
"Sirius! Sirius, we did it! We've got the proof! You're going to be a free man now."
x---x---x---x
Compensation for the last chapter being short